Caledon's Redemption
by MetallicAngel30
Summary: What if Cal was the focus if Titanic? What if he and Bella were in love before the doomed voyage? Will have elements of Twilight, but is primarily Titanic. AU
1. Welcome to Titanic

_**A/N 2/15/2020: Hey guys, I thought I'd go back over this story and check for spelling issues and whatnot as I added another chapter. I don't usually do that, but I was also having date issues with the original time line, so I went back through and did a bit of research for dates and altered them a bit. I hope you still like the story, and like it even more with the subtle differences I made to it. Thank you for being so patient with me. Much love ~Angel**_

Brock and Lewis waited until the helicopter, now carrying the recently deceased Rose Calvert, was completely out of sight before they turned to go back inside to catalog what they had already brought topside and give orders for everything to be packed up. Brock was dejected at the knowledge the diamond was well and truly lost now. There was just no way he could find it alone, separated from the hip at the bottom of the ocean after Rose had dropped it the previous night.

"Mr. Lovett?" came the voice of a young man. Lewis and Bock turned to see said young man dressed smartly in light gray dress pants, a crisply pressed white shirt, and black shined shoes, and carrying an old leather bound book. The ensemble was set off rather nicely by his jet black hair, brown eyes, and a confident but kind smile.

But it was the bright blue diamond, set in a simple thick wedding band on his right ring finger that drew Brock's eye. The entire ensemble itself screamed money, but Brock, who studied jewelry relentlessly over the past 5 years to find the Heart of the Ocean, knew that that particular design was from around the 1920's give or take. Which spoke of old money.

"Yes? I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone came with the chopper, Mr.-?" he trailed off as he stepped forward and offered his hand.

"Hockley. Caledon Hockley. I was named for my grandfather; and I believe you are searching for something that once belonged to my family?" the young man asked, still smiling, but with a mischievous look in his eye.

Brock shook his head. "Not any more, Mr. Hockley. If that is really who you are," he said, not entirely believing the boy was who he said he was, though shocked that he knew the name. "I'm afraid that the diamond is now at the bottom of the Atlantic, dropped by the now dead crazy old bat that just left the ship." Bock gestured towards the direction the helicopter left in.

The young man began laughing. Full belly, doubled over laughter. "She- she dropped it into the-," he managed to get out before his laughter redoubled. It took him quite a few minutes for him to regain his composure as Brock and Lewis stood there with bewildered looks on their faces.

Still snickering, young Hockley straightened himself, before finally speaking again. "Did the aforementioned crazy old bat tell you her story of woe?"

"She did. I was quite the story," Brock said. "Your ancestor was not painted in a favorable light, if you are indeed related."

Young Hockley's smile faded a bit, his eyes softening, and he shook his head. "I would advise, that you listen to both sides of the story before making a final decision," he said before holding up the book he was holding.

Brock stepped forward and took the book. He opened it to see that it was a journal. Turning to a marked page, he saw that it was dated the morning of April 10th, 1912.

"What is this?" he asked.

"This-," Hockley said with a sigh, "Is my grandfather's journal. Caledon Hockley, son of Nathan Hockley." Brock flipped through the rest of the book and saw something that puzzled him. There were entries from the 1930's. The last was even dated in June of 1932.

"This book has entries from the '30's. But Rose said that your grandfather committed suicide in 1929, after the Crash," he said, looking up from the journal.

"Remember, you have to hear both sides to make an informed decision," Hockley said as he took the book back. "I'm surprised at you, Mr. Lovett. A scientist taking the word of a woman without checking his facts? A Hockley did shoot himself in 1929, but it was my great-grandfather Nathan. He didn't invest his fortune wisely and immediately felt the impact of the Depression. My grandfather, however, at the behest of my grandmother, invested some of his funds in the movie industry. And when the government turned to those who owned a large amount of land to help employ those out of work, and bring up the lacking agricultural market, my grandfather stepped in and took a stipend from the government to allow some of his fields to be cultivated with trees to help with the erosion caused by over farming."

"This man sounds like a completely different man compared to the dick Rose spoke about," Lewis put in eloquently. Hockley chuckled at his brashness.

"Grand-dad does mention Rose had a flare for the dramatic. It was probably why she did so well on the silver screen. Would you like to hear the story from his point of view. It may offer you more answers to questions you didn't even know you had."

Brock and Lewis looked at each other before Brock nodded and motioned for the young man to follow them to the artifacts room. Hockley looked over everything they had gathered, stopping for a while at the drawing of Rose. Before he sighed and turned towards the seat framed by the screens, showing the shots from the submersibles. He quietly opened the journal to the page he had previously marked, and looked up.

"You must understand that while the story of those that died and lost loved ones to the sinking is tragic, this is my favorite story. It's my favorite, because it tells how my grandparents met. And they went through hell to be together." He looked down at the book and began reading.

_ Early Morning, April 10, 1912_

_It is both fallacy and folly to believe that the predominate emotion a man can feel is possessiveness. It is a sad truth of this modern society that men hold the upper hand in all things, but to be snubbed for even just trying to understand your intended, after seeing and heeding all hints to do so, stirs one part anger, one part failure, and one part resignation within me. I give in to her every whim hoping that she would at least try to make this imminent union work, but she seems content to watch me dance her fool's dance for nothing more than her amusement. _

_Today, we set sail on the Titanic. Another whim I paid an outrageous sum for. She wanted first class ticket. This I have no problem with, I am personally about to afford such a ticket for myself, Rose, and her mother, without my father's aide. What vexes me, is that she insisted on the most expensive cabins. A set of suites with a private promenade deck shared with the neighboring suite, which was booked by the well known Cardeza family. I reserved one of those for Rose and her mother, since it only has the two rooms, and a simple first class berth for myself plus the cost of meals and the like. _

_It is known as the Ship of Dreams. I occasionally hear from Rose that it is nothing more than a slave ship. I wonder if she has had to work a day in her life to actually appreciate what she has. The wealth that she is taking for granted. Of course such views weren't stated until Mr. Lovejoy joined our voyage. Given his history in law enforcement, she is adamant that he is there to ensure I don't stray too far into the seedy night life. In truth, I asked my father, to whom Mr. Lovejoy has been a valet for these past 10 years, if he could be spared to ensure it was she, who didn't stray. In all honesty, I hope she does so that I have an excuse to end this farce of a union my father has foisted upon me. We are wealthy, to be sure, but the DeWitt Bukater's have the long standing name to get Hockley Steele in with some of the wealthiest business men on the European continent._

_Imagine, one day, being told you must find a wife, to ensure the continuation of the Hockley name, and then not long after, told by your father that it was **he** that had found and secured a proper match for you. In truth, I had been looking for a wife, and was well on my way to asking the young woman I had been courting to marry me. I did love her. _

_My beautiful Isobel. Her father is a lumber magnate out west, and she had been in Philadelphia with him on business. We had run into each other at a baseball game, of all things. It seems, being raised by a single father had influenced her tastes a bit too much for her governess's liking. Oh how my dear Isobel loved tormenting Miss. Platt and vexing her old world ways. _

_Isobel values honesty above all things. So I told her the truth. How I had been working up the nerve to ask both her and her father for her hand, and how my own had railroaded me into marrying a girl I did not know, and was more likely to suit his tastes than mine. She cried, obviously. I had broken her heart. She asked why I didn't just go against my father, and I had to admit, that while the thought was appealing, Nathan Hockley is still my father. I asked her how easily she herself could give up her own and that was the end of it, for we both knew that she loved her father too much to do such a thing. _

_We parted on good terms, but more and more lately, I have been thinking about where I would be now had I actually turned my back on my father and family to marry the woman I loved. We might be set up comfortably in Washington with a child. A daughter with her eyes and bright smile. A son with my hair and love of business. Of course I would never force any child of mine into a career they want, but what parent doesn't think of their child's possible future. No sense on dreaming of such things now, though, is there. I am lock into an overly prolonged engagement with a viper, and by this point, Isobel is in all probability married. Possibly to that young Jacob chap she had said was a good friend, or the son of the new doctor in her town. _

_Rose says that the Titanic is a slave ship, and on this point, I can't help but agree with her. I wonder though, who is the slave. Her? Or me?_

o0o o0o o0o

The pier was in chaos as passengers and their loved ones either boarded the Titanic or were saying their farewells. Young Isobel and her father, Charles, had been on holiday in London, when they had heard of the new grand luxury ship that was to set sail on her maiden voyage to New York. Charles, who had brought his daughter overseas to help mend her heart after having it twice shattered, the first by Caledon Hockley, whose hand had been forced by his father, and the second time by that little shit, if you'll pardon the vulgar language, of a doctor's son Edward. Who had decided to keep his family wealth in the family by marrying his cousin Tanya. For God's sake, the boy was a doctor's son! Surely he knew the dangers of inbreeding. Tanya was, after all, his first cousin.

So it was, nearly two years since Caledon had broken ties with dignity, and six months on the heels of that shit, pardon the vulgarity, Edwin? Edmund? Edgar? had publicly humiliated his little girl, Charles had thought it a capital idea to start the first leg of their journey home in comfort. They had met many influential people. Among them, Sigmund Freud, who had been on holiday and gathering information on his new theory. Isobel and Charles had a lot of fun giving their points of view on the matter. And the wonderful Lady Duff-Gordon, who had informed the two of the voyage, and who herself would travel aboard with her husband. The wonderful lady had designed many a gown just for Isobel, stating that the young girl was the perfect combination of beauty and brains. They spent a week in each other's constant company designing the gowns and choosing colors.

Charles had obtained two first-class berthings for himself and his daughter just days before, it was a small miracle he was able to. He was dressed smartly in s black three piece business suit, his shoes gleaming brightly as they were freshly polished, while she was wearing a modest lavender ankle length skirt with a matching long jacket with stripped cuffs over a black blouse that just came up to her collar bones. With this she was wearing a pair of traveling gloves and a straw hat as modestly decorated as the rest of her ensemble.

Charles sighed at the colors she had chosen. It had taken a good long while to get her to wear anything but mourning black. After all, she had only known the Cullen boy for maybe seven months. When he pressed her about it, she said she wasn't mourning his loss so much as the loss of her belief in love. After all, twice now had the man she loved left her for another. Even if one was unwilling to do so.

Isobel gasped at her first sight of the ship. It was indeed magnificent and beautiful. A true feat of human ingenuity. Charles heard the incessant sound of a horn blowing, and turned to see three Model-T's pushing their way through the crowd. He rolled his eyes at the entitlement of some of, those people with means and turned his attention once again to his daughter as she marveled the ship that would take them home to the States.

"What do you think? Will it do to carry us home?" he asked with a gleam in his eye.

"Will it do? Dad this is a floating palace!" she said brightly.

Charles laughed. "Then what do you say to boarding this palace home?" he asked before turning to his valet and her lady's maid. "Please, see that our things are taken to suites C-17 and 18."

Isobel smiled at her father. He was the kindest and most giving man she had ever known. He always said that it was just good business to treat your employees right if you want to get good service out of them, but she knew that he truly cared what happed to those who worked for them. He even paid for them to have second class berthings.

Charles turned back to Isobel and offered his arm, as they boarded the great unsinkable ship on her very first voyage.

o0o o0o o0o

Those three Model-T's that had so ostentatiously pushed their way through the crowd, turned out to be carrying Caledon Hockley, his fiancé, Rose DeWitt Bukater, and her Mother Ruth as they made their late entrance to the port. Caledon was in a mood, since both women insisted on dressing just right for the voyage. When he asked Lovejoy why they didn't just wake up earlier to accommodate as any other person in the world, the valet just shrugged his shoulders.

However, once Cal got his first look at the ship that would be taking him most of the journey home, he was in awe. And he had another one of those moments where he wondered what his dearest Isobel would have thought of the ship.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Rose said with a superior tone, turning to Cal as she ensured her overly large purple hat with an equally large outrageous stripped bow, didn't get in the way of her speaking. "It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauritania."

"You can be blasé about some things, Rose, but not about Titanic. It's over 100 feet longer than Mauritania," he admonished her with a half excited half frustrated tone. "And far more luxurious. Your daughter is far too difficult to impress, Ruth."

Ruth laughs softly as he helps her out of the car. The feathers in her had as distracting as the bow in her daughter's. He wanted to add in her deficiencies of character in that statement as well, but held his tongue.

"So this is the ship they say is unsinkable," Ruth mused as she walked to join her daughter.

"Sir. Sir- Sir!" said a porter for the ship over Cal's affirmations to Ruth.

"It is unsinkable. God Himself could not sing this ship- What?" Cal asked, impatient.

"You have to check your baggage through the main terminal. It's round that way, sir," he said importantly as Cal nodded and dug into his pocked for a 20 pound note.

"I put my faith in you good sir. Now kindly see my man," he said, gesturing to Lovejoy.

"Oh, yes sir! My pleasure, sir! If I can do anything at all-," but the overly thankful porter was distracted by Lovejoy, who gently pulled him by the shoulder.

"Yes, right," Lovejoy said, leading the man. "All the trunks from that car there. The twelve from here. And the safe, to the parlour suite rooms B-52,54,56," he said, double checking the ticket.

Caledon checked his pocket watch for the time and turned to the women. "Ladies, we better hurry. Come along," he ordered as the maid, Trudy, grabbed the rest of their carry ons.

"My coat?" Rose asked Trudy in worry.

"I have it, miss," the able bodied maid answered.

They passed the line for the third class health inspections and followed Ruth, who lead the way up the passenger loading ramp, like a queen leading her entourage. As they entered, Ruth broke off to ensure their names were counted among those aboard as Cal and Rose passed her. As he boarded, Cal could have sworn he had caught faint traces of a long missed, never forgotten scent. The scent of orange-blossoms. He shook his head and focused once more on finding their rooms. There was no way his Beloved would be here in England. She loved her home and the towering trees more than anything and wouldn't leave unless absolutely necessary. Certainly not to travel on a ship. Poor Isobel got seasick.


	2. A Fool's Luncheon

Isobel and her father Charles saw to their things in their staterooms, before heading up to the deck of the ship to wave goodbye with the other passengers. It wasn't that they knew anyone in particular to wave farewell to, just Southampton. Isobel had enjoyed it immensely, and considered England to be the place where she had truly begun to heal from her ordeal with Edward. She wondered how she didn't see his intentions sooner. Looking back in hindsight really is 20/20, as she now understood that he never truly committed to anything when it came to their future.

Isobel smiled widely, and even let a giggle escape her as the infectious good mood in the air lifted her spirits even farther. It was a sound Charles genuinely her he took a few moments to bask in his girl's good mood. It is 12:30 in the afternoon when Titanic is completely free of the docks, her mooring lines pulled onto and rolled on the deck and is making headway towards Cherbourg.

Charles turns to Isobel and asks, "Care to take a stroll about the ship with me? Explore our temporary home?"

Isobel nods and continues to smile. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, daddy," she says softly.

There were times when they had to take small detours, needing to avoid, obviously, the private promenades and areas where only crew members are allowed to tread, but other than that, Isobel and Charles deemed the ship more than adequate to bear them home. With a final decision to retire to their parlor for the evening to just take the time to enjoy each other's and to eat their first meal on the ship in peace and good company.

o0o o0o o0o

Caledon was walking the promenade of his fiancé's room as a servant was showing him the way through the rooms.

"This is your private promenade deck, sir. Will you be requiring anything?" he asked.

Cal dismissed him with a distracted wave of his wine glass as he peered out one of the windows, his thoughts on the scent he had caught traces of as he boarded the ship. The scent brought his sweet Isobel to mind and she just refused to leave it.

"Excuse me," the servant said as he left Cal. Cal, his thoughts still on Isobel, then started to absentmindedly wonder his and Rose's rooms as he poured himself a glass of wine. He passed the parlor as he did so, and stepping in hearing Rose speak to her maid about the prints of paintings she had bought.

He decided to let off some steam. Nothing got his blood boiling, nor released stress quite as well as picking a fight with Rose. Even if what he said was a direct contradiction to what he felt.

"God, not those finger paintings again. They certainly were a waste of money," he sneered, leaning against the door frame and taking a sip of wine.

"The difference between Cal's taste in art and mine, is that I have some. They're facinating," she said to no one in particular, not even deigning to speak to him directly. She laid the Picasso print on the couch. "Like being inside a dream or something. There's truth but no logic."

"What's the artist's name?" Trudy asks.

"Something Picasso," Rose said as she picks up a print by Degas.

" 'Something Picasso-'," Cal scoffs. "He won't amount to a thing. He won't, trust me. At least they were cheap," he says to Lovejoy, who had just finished directing the last of their luggage into the parlor.

"Let's put the Degas in the bedroom," Rose tells Trudy as the leave the room.

o0o o0o o0o

_ Late Morning, April 10, 1912_

_We've docked at Cherbourg, to take on more passengers. I am told that J.J. Astor and his wife will be among those counted, as well as Maggie Brown. I have had the pleasure of Mrs. Brown's company before and she is a unique character, I will admit. I admire that she pulls no punches and she has very little patience, once she sets her mind to something. If she can do something herself, no pleading of help from her hired help will stop her, she will do it herself. _

_I have business with Astor, however. I am hoping to take a portion of my trust fund and invest it in some land. I've always been of the opinion that land is a valuable commodity. It is the only thing that there isn't any more of. What we have now on this good earth is all we are ever going to get. I'm hoping to buy a plot of land, somewhere in the Midwest probably. I may even venture all the way to California. It all depends on what J.J. recommends. It would be a foolish man, indeed, that turned down financial and investment advise from one of the richest men in the world. _

_I may have to get Maggie's thoughts on that as well. After all, it is her husband that had made his own fortune that far out west. _

o0o o0o o0o

"She is the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in all of history," Bruce Ismay explained to those at his table that afternoon for lunch. "And our master shipbuilder, Mr. Andrews here, designed her, from the keel plates up."

"Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea, was Mr. Ismay's," Mr. Andrews said modestly. "He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in it's appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is. Willed into solid reality."

"Hear, hear," Cal said with a smile to the obviously proud man.

It was at this time, that Isobel and her father walked into the dining room, taking seats at a nearby table. Charles, recognized the young man instantly, but it was obvious that Isobel had yet to see him. Charles was now in a quandary. He couldn't rightfully see that they were situated in another dining room, or even at another table without raising his daughter's suspicions. However, he didn't know what her reaction to seeing her former paramour would be. He decided to ride it out. He would be there to support her if it was needed.

Rose, who was not thoroughly bored of the current topic of conversation, pulled out a cigarette and her holder. A little act of rebellion, to pull attention towards her, where it always should be, but never made to look intentional.

"You know I don't like that, Rose," her mother said as she took a lungful of the tobacco.

Rose blew smoke across her mother's face in a silent insult. Rose was, after all, considered an adult. She should be able to do as she wished. Cal, who wasn't in any mood to humor any of Rose's games, leaned forward and plucked the cigarette from it's holder as Rose's attention was diverted towards her mother.

"She knows," he said exasperatedly. Then, as he put out the small lit object, his own attention was grabbed by a waiter. "Hmm. We'll both have the lamb. Rare, with very little mint sauce."

He then continued to munch on a carrot stick as he sent his own small jab towards Rose. "You like lamb, right sweet pea?" Cal didn't like to hold the fact he was male over any woman's head. In fact, he often looked towards women in matters of business, as they often find things from an angle you never expect. But there was just something about Rose, that raised his hackles.

Isobel froze in the middle of putting her napkin on her lap at hearing the long familiar voice. She closed her eyes momentarily, and inhaled deeply to center herself, before she opened her eyes and looked questioningly at her father. He knew she wanted to know if he was really there and Charles nodded in affirmation.

"Let's go, dad. I'm afraid I've lost my appetite. I'll call for something should I get hungry later," she promised softly. Charles sighed. He had really been looking forward to dining in company, but nodded as they both rose.

Rose sent a mocking smile his was after she had put her cigarette holder away. Maggie Brown, who had sensed the tension between the two, decided to get the conversation back on track in an unconventional way.

"You gonna cut her meat for her too there, Cal?" she chuckles. "Hey, who thought of the name Titanic? Was it you, Bruce?" she asked, sending a knowing glance towards the man.

"Yes, actually. I wanted to convey sheer size. And size means stability, luxury, and above all, strength."

"Do you know of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you," Rose said calmly.

"What's gotten in to you?" Ruth softly asked her daughter in a tone of rebuke.

Isobel and Charles, who had made their way calmly towards the door, a path that took them right past the table Cal and Rose were dining at, stopped. Isobel looked appalled, and Charles, seeing the veiled insult for what it was, cleared his throat. The company at the table turned, and Cal froze, his eyes widening at seeing his beloved Isobel here, on board the Titanic.

"If you are going to be insulting people with science, I suggest you do so with substantiated found facts. Dr. Freud has yet to publish that particular study as his main source material for information, have been women. I don't expect it to be published for a number of years yet. Please, refrain from such barbs in polite society," Isobel said with a disdainful look towards Rose.

"Excuse me," Rose said as she rose and hurriedly left in embarrassment. That whole scene played out much differently than she had imagined.

"I do apologize," Ruth said to the company as a whole.

"She's a pistol, Cal. I hope you can handle her," Maggie stated. But his attention was solely on the ethereal angel before him. Dressed in a stunning pale lavender evening gown, white gloves, and a shawl, just a shade or two darker than her dress.

"Iso-"

"Please, excuse us. We did not mean to intrude on your lunch, nor your conversation," Charles interupted with a smile to the table as he gently took Isobel by the elbow and started to lead her out. "I am afraid we were just leaving, having finished our lunch."

Finally gaining the fresh air outside, Charles turned to his daughter, a look of concern on his face.

"I'm fine, dad. Honestly. I just think, I'll take a walk about the deck. Why don't you go to our rooms and order us something light to eat," she said with a genuine, if strained smile.

"Are you sure? I could walk with you. Quiet as a mouse until you gain your composure again," he offered. Isobel, touched by his offer, hugged him about the middle.

"I'm sure. I won't be long, I promise." Charles took one last look at Isobel before he gave a single nod and a smile back, as he turned on his heel and headed towards their rooms. Isobel took one more deep steadying breath as a single tear made it's way from her chocolate brown eyes, down her chin, and onto the deck of the ship.

o0o o0o o0o

Rose made her way out to the end of the top most deck, and she took a breath of air, steadying her nerves. The only way that little tramp would know of Dr. Freud's study would be if she actually met the man. It took Rose days to track the man down on his holiday, and even longer to convince him to sit down and talk with her. Now, she had been made a fool of, instead of actually sounding learned.

It was then, Rose noticed one man, sitting amongst a group of three, that was looking up at her. Looking up at her as if he were seeing light in a long dark tunnel, at last, after being lost for days. His friend in the beret next to him, waved his hand in front of his face, but the young man's focus never wavered.

Their staring match was broken when Cal joined her on the deck.

"What do you think you were hoping to achieve," he asked heatedly.

"Nothing more than everyone's undivided attention," she said honestly. If there was one trait Cal admired about his and Rose's love to hate relationship, is that the woman never lied to him. She turned and walked back towards the dining room.

"Well, you got what you wanted, even if it was attention borne of embarrassment. I hope you're proud of yourself," he said as she retreated. Rose didn't want to hear one of his long lectures on propriety.

"So… that is your Rose?" came the sweet voice of his personal angel behind him. His beautiful Belle. He didn't turn around, as he kept looking out to see. But he nodded.

"It is," he said in resignation.

"I must admit, I don't like her much," Isobel said. Cal let out a laugh. The kind of laugh only she was able to bring out of him. Honest to goodness humor.

"Neither do I. Is your offer of elopement still on the table?" he asked jokingly, though it was a poor excuse at fishing for information.

She joined him at the railing with a sigh. "If I only had the confidence I did then. I would freely accept such a request. But much has happened in the intervening two years," she tells him. Cal looked over and studied her for a moment. She looked beautiful as ever, that was never in any question, but he now noticed the new along with the old features.

Belle was thinner, and had a world weary look to her gaze. Her posture, while immaculate and straight as ever, seemed to fold in on itself. "What has happened, Belle?" he asked in astonishment.

"Love, Cal. Love is a beautiful blessing… and a brutal curse," she said softly, as she laid her hand softly on his arm. She let it linger for but a moment before she was gone.

o0o o0o o0o

_Evening, __April __10__, 1912_

_It had been a shock to find Isobel __aboard the Titanic. But it was nothing compared to the shock of her countenance once I finally had gotten around to paying attention to it. She said love was a beautiful blessing and a brutal curse. Was it her love for me that drove her to look as she did? Had she fallen in love with another and then lost him that gave her the appearance of bearing a heavy load?_

_I wish so much just to go to her and beg on my hands and knees for her to give us another chance. To turn my back on my father and his expectations. On Rose and Ruth and the promise of our union. I__ want a union of love, not of material gain. I remember talking to Belle of our future. How we would have both one boy and one girl, though we would have the girl first. How we would find a modest home and settle down with a garden to grow what we needed to sustain ourselves and a few goats for company and the like. A simple life. _

_All of that seems a million miles from here and now. If there is one small comfort, if can be called that and not the ghosts of my past haunting and taunting me, it is the mere fact that she is nearby. Nearby, and, from first observations, healthy. I plan to seek out her father, Charles, for further information. The man had always been more of a father figure to me than my own. _


	3. Intentions

Cal took a deep breath to steady his nerves as he stood in front of room C-17. He made a mental note to do something nice for Lovejoy, for managing to get the room number for Charles. That however, now lead to his current predicament, of getting up the nerve to talk to the father of the woman he had never stopped loving, yet had been forced to break, all for this God forsaken engagement. After a few minutes, he shook his head and decided there was nothing for it. He'd either knock on the door and talk to the man as a man, or tuck tail and run like a coward, and have to live with never knowing.

The decision was taken out of his hands though, when the door opened and Charles stepped aside to let him in. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. The look in his eyes said it all. He knew the torment that Cal was going through and, while admiring the gumption it took to come and see him, he wasn't happy that he was throwing a monkey wrench into thier emotional lives once more.

Cal entered, giving a small bow and a sad smile to the man, and Charles closed the door.

"Caledon. While I personally am happy to see you again, I have to say, the upset that you have caused my daughter is something I can not stand for," Charles said.

Cal sighed and ran a hand through his already mussed hair. "I know. I am sorry to cause Isobel distress, but I am afraid that it is my mere presence that causes such, and I can not hide in my rooms the entire voyage."

"I know, son. It is a Catch 22. You can not be in each other's company without causing pain, but not being seen would cause a rucus. Come. Sit. Tell me about your life for the past two years."

"It is actually Isobel's life since our parting I wished to know," Cal said, taking a seat at the small table Charle's room provided. "She caught up with me after I had tracked down and rebuked Rose for her behavior, and after a small exchange, I noticed some changes in her demeanor and bearing."

"Hmm," Charles intoned, giving a small nod. "I always did like that about you. You've always known what you want, and take the direct approach to get it."

He sat opposite Cal, and served them both a small glass of brandy, after seeing another be brought for the other man in the room. "Isobel told me of her offer for you both to run off and elope. I would have supported the idea, you know."

Caledon was surprised at such a declaration. "You would have given it your blessing?!" he asked incredulously.

"You must understand that neither Isobel or I are the most demonstrative of our feelings towards each other. We are too much alike in the fact that when it comes to showing a parent or close loved one we do indeed love them, we become awkward. Another thing we have in common is that we both dislike being the center of attention, though we see the need for it occasionally due to our social standing. We take it on the chin with dignity. I've known since she was a child that she didn't want a large wedding. So long as she was settled and happy, I would have given her to her chosen with a smile on my face and a kiss on her forehead."

There was silence for a moment as Cal took in the information.

"It took a full year before Belle would even think about accepting other suitors. When she did, it was a tentative relationship with the local doctor's son."

Cal nodded. "I assumed it would have been him or the young man named Jacob that she kept speaking of."

Charles shook his head. "Belle never saw the boy as more than a good friend or little brother. The young man never declared himself officially, but he and Belle had spent so much time together that the whole town practically expected him to propose. After six months, I felt that something wasn't right. In the fact that he never declared himself, and the look in his eyes. They weren't honest, Caledon. But Belle wouldn't hear any word against him, and at that point, neither would Esme, who had taken up with the doctor himself. He left her in the woods, lost, alone, and without aide just after Carlisle and Esme had departed for thier honeymoon. None of the family has been heard of since. Isobel was found by local tribesmen 12 hours later, two hours walk into the woods, suffering from hypothermia and manic depression."

Cal's fists were clenched at this point, as he held back a tidal wave of anger so large, it was a wonder the very ship they were on didn't lurch from under them.

"And the name of the family Miss. Platt married into?" he said lowly.

"Cullen. Carlisle Cullen, Esme, his son, Edward, and daughter Rosalie, from what I was able to gather, a well respected surgeon in Boston, before his tenure in Washington."

"They will be held accountable. I may never be what I wanted for Isobel, but they will be held accountable. It is the least I can do. If I-" But he was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Lovejoy.

"Excuse me, young master Hockley, but your fiancé urgently needs your attention on the deck. The Master at Arms has been called for as well."

Caledon, who's anger was already at dangerous levels, ended up gripping his glass of brandy so tightly, it shattered in his hand without his noticing. Charles sighed once more and passed Cal a handkerchief, as he took another from his room and started picking up the pieces.

"Go, son. You have never been one to shirk your duties, don't start now." Cal nodded sadly at the man, and Charles noted a new look of weariness in his eyes that his beloved daughter had sported for the past half a year. "Have faith. The world may not always grant us what we wish, but it always gives us what we need."

Cal left, follownig Lovejoy out of the room. It wasn't long after that Isobel knocked on her father's door lightly before entering. Seeing the mess he was cleaning, she immediately grew concerned and started helping him pick up the larger pieces, being careful not to cut herself on the sharp edges.

"Is everything all right, daddy?" she asked him softly. Charles gave her a smile, with a small chuckle, and waved her off.

"A clumsy moment of inattention. I seemed to manage to knock my glass of brandy to the floor looking for my pocketwatch. Found the blasted thing, but managed to hipcheck the table in the process," he said, patting his pocket with said watch.

"Well, in any case, I wanted to see if you wanted to take lunch tomorrow, in the dining room. I figured I can't avoid everyone the whole journey. I did promise to model the new dresses Lady Duff Gordon and I designed for her, after all," she said with a small smile. Charles nodded.

"I would love to, Belle," he said.

"Leave this, dad. I'll send in Micheal to collect the glass."

"Just as well. My old knees don't like being on the floor anyhow," he said with a grunt as he rose from the floor.

Isobel smiled and headed for the door once more. Only she noticed something odd on her way out. If her dad had dropped his glass of brandy as he said he had, why then was there one half drunk on display? She looked back at her father, who was brushing out the creases in his pants, with a puzzled look before she quitted the room. He had obviously had a visitor, and only one would cause him to lie to her.

o0o o0o o0o

Cal got to the deck, and, after ensuring that Rose was indeed settled and her 'nerves' were once more calm, he started in on her.

"What is the point of this, Rose?" he asked her tiredly. "Is the attention I shower you with not enough?"

Rose looked him dead in the eye, making sure that Colonal Gracie was deep in conversation with Lovejoy before answering.

"No. And I'll be damned if I'm going to travel for the five days it'll take us to get into New York without some form of entertainment," she said coldly before looking at the young blonde man currently in hand cuffs. Cal got angry once again and growled as he stood.

"This is completely unacceptable!" he said in a fit of frustrated jealousy. It wasn't the fact that he loved Rose. No. His heart forever belonged to Isobel. But he was doing everything in his power to please her, and coming up wanting, when this young man seemed to gain her attention without even trying.

"What made you think that you could put your hands on my fiancé?!" Jack looked Cal over once quickly, before his eyes went to Rose. Cal gained his attention once more by taking him by the front of his shirt. "Look at me, you filth! What do you think you were doing?"

"Cal. Cal, stop. It was a accident," Rose said, taking his arm and prying it from the young man's shirt.

"An accident?" he asked her incredulously.

"It was," she affirmed. "Stupid, really. I was leaning over and I slipped."

Even the blonde youth looked at Rose to see what she was on about. Rose looked back at him, as if to tell him to go along with her story before she continued. 

"I was leaning far over to see the, uh, uh, uh... the uh, uh," she said, searching for the word as she closed her eyes to concentrate and spun her fingers in a circular motion.

"Propellers?" Cal prompted.

He rolled his eyes as she picked up the story. "Propellers, and I slipped. And I would have gone overboard, but Mr. Dawson here saved me. And almost went over himself."

"You wanted to see the... she wanted to see the propellers," Cal laughed, disbelievingly.

"Like I said, women and machinery do not mix," Colonel Gracie chimed in as he circled the group to the now named Mr. Dawson.

"Was that the way of it?" the Master at Arms asked. Jacked looked at Rose, who gave him a look he correctly interpreted before turning to the man that had him bound.

"Yeah. Yeah, that was pretty much it," he said calmly.

"Well, the boy's a hero then. Good for you son. Well done," Colonel Gracie said as he said to try and lighten the mood he was more or less oblivious to. "So, it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?"

"Let's go, Rose," Cal said, taking her by the shoulders and firmly stearing her towards the warm inside of the ship.

"Perhaps a little something for the boy?" Gracie suggested.

"Of course," Cal said to the elder man before turning to his valet. "Mr. Lovejoy, I think a 20 should do it." Lovejoy nodded and Cal once more turned to leave with Rose before she put in her two unwanted cents.

She gave an appalled chuckle. "Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?"

Cal gave her a look that told her he was not amused. But he couldn't do anything within the present company.

"Rose is displeased. What to do?" he said mockingly. Then he hit on an idea. Not to humiliate the youth, no. But he knew that 20 dollars would have done more for the man that anything else. Rose, though, seemed to think otherwise, so he would give the man a meal to remember, and hopefully show him her, and possibly her mother's, true colors so he could run back to third class and stay there, where he would be infinitely safer.

"I know," he walked up to Jack. "Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening. To regale our group with your heroic tale?"

"Sure," Jack said, dubiously. "Count me in."

"Good. It's settled then," he said before he and Gracie turned. "This should be interesting," he told the old soldier.

o0o o0o o0o

Cal knocked on Rose's room door before entering. He waited in the doorway for a few moments before he got up the nerve to speak.

"I know you've been melancholy. I don't pretend to know why," he said. Then he entered her room and moved to her dressing table, where he closed the singing music box she had playing. He turned to look at her and froze. There on her neck, was the diamond he had bought, but was hesitant on giving her. It was obvious he now had to change the combination on his safe.

"I see you've found the gift I had intended for the gala next week," he said bitingly. "Though I must wonder at why you insist on going through my personal things."

"What's yours is mine, darling," she said. "If I'm to be sold, I want to actually be worth something on par with royalty."

Cal pushed off from the table and made his way to her door, then turned. "You know, that was last worn by Louis the XVI. It is said to have even been around his neck at the time of his execution in 1792. I'll bet you didn't know that little tidbit when you saw the pretty blue diamond in the window. I hope, for your sake, there isn't a curse upon that diamond. After all, the three intervening owners have also perished for this or that reason. Wouldn't do to loose your pretty head before we are even married," he said maliciously. Rose paled in the middle of polishing her silver framed mirror and looked up at his reflection in the table mirror, just seeing him leave the room.

The diamond was back in it's place in his safe before the night was finished.

o0o o0o o0o

Lunch had passed rather uneventfully for Charles and Isobel, for which they were both rather thankful. Things had even gone so normally, in fact, that they had decided to also take tea together. Or in Charles's case, a rather large and robust cup of coffee. The man never did aquire a taste for tea. They were joined half way through by the Lady Duff Gordon, who marveled over how well a dark periwinkle dress with a delicate pink and black sash about the waist fit the young woman. Her hair, put up in a simple roman style with a ribbon about her head.

It was then the slightly louder and boistrous tones of Maggie Brown drifted through the intervening two tables to them.

"Hello, girls. I was hoping I'd catch you at tea," she said to the two women sitting at the table. It was Mrs. Dewitt Bukater and the Countess of Rothes.

"We're awfully worry, you missed it," Mrs. Dewitt Bukater said to Maggie. "The Countess and I were just off to take the air on the boat deck."

Isobel stood. "You may sit with us, Mrs. Brown," she said, gesturing to herself, her father, and the Lady. "We were just going over our most recent dress designs if that'll intrest you at all."

Maggie Brown's whole coutenance lifted as she joined Isobel and her father, leaving the Countess and Rose's mother looking as though they were sucking on lemons.

"At any rate, I'm sure that both of those ladies wouldn't agree with our current topic of discussion," she said in a lower tone for the table's ears only.

"Oh?" Maggie asked.

Isobel nodded. "I was thinking about furthuring my education. I would love to pursue a nursing degree. Perhaps even become a doctor in time."

"No, I'm sure they wouldn't agree at all," the older woman said stunned. "Ruth is sure that University is to find a husband. She forbad Rose from going because her match had already been decided." Isobel flinched at the woman's unintended gaff but managed to somewhat pass it off as disapproval. Maggie was more clever than she was given credit for. She hadn't always been wealthy after all, and had to get to know people through body language.

"I may not believe in the heavy handed approach the feminist movement it using. But out dated ideas like that will never win us the vote," Isobel said.

"I knew I pegged you right for a suffrigette," Maggie said. Isobel shook her head.

"Yes and no, Mrs. Brown. I believe that we should have the right to be educated and have jobs like any other man. That we should have a vote in who is president and who will represent us. I do not however, see the point in dehumanizing men in the process. Nor do I think we women should throw away what makes us so unique. We are not meant to do everything a man can, just like men can not do everything we can. I will never match the strength of a full grown man, nor do I want to. I want to feel safe with my future spouse as much as I'm sure they will want to protect me. I want to give birth to our children with him supporting me and being terrified of fatherhood but excited as well, every step of the way. It's something many of my generation over look in thier outcry for equality," she explained.

"Well said, Isobel," came Cal's soft tones from behind her. "Charles, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?" he asked of her father. Charles looked at Isobel to ensure she would be all right in present company with out him. She nodded, and he turned his attention back to Cal.

"Certainly," he said, laying his napkin once again on the table and rising to follow the younger man out.

o0o o0o o0o

"So you've not yet lit the last four boilers," Bruce Ismay said, reading the latest report from Captain Smith.

"No, I don't see the need. We are making excellent time," the Captain said proudly.

Bruce folded the report and said, "The press knows the size of Titanic, now I want them to marvel at her speed. We must give them something new to print." He looked about the dining room and took a lungful of smoke from his cigarette before he continues. "This maiden voyage of Titanic must make headlines."

"Mr. Ismay, I would prefer not to push the engines until they've been properly run in," the Captain said in all seriousness.

"Of course, I'm just a passenger. I'll leave it to your good offices to decide what's best. But what a glorious end to your final crossing if we were to get into New York on Tuesday night and surprise them all. Make the morning papers. Retire with a bang, eh E.J?" The wealthy Shipbuilder could see he had pushed his point home. "Good man."

o0o o0o o0o

_Late Morning, __April __11__, 1912_

_I have admitted that I had viewed Charles as a father more than my own. To this I hold. I asked for a moment of his time today and admitted that I could not at all go through with this farce of a union. Everyone knows that my heart isn't in it. But now, every fiber of my being is screaming at me to break off the association, no matter the legal reprocussions. __I admitted to my continued affections for Isobel, and I am sure I have an ally in him to regain her affections. _

_But he gave me a warning. Not the one where the father of a girl tries to scare off prospective suitors. He'd already given me that one, though reaffirmed it during this talk, stating that he respected and admired my ability to be honest and dutiful. No, this warning was one I didn't want to particularly hear. That Isobel may have closed herself off from love perminantly. He says that it may be a herculean task to win her affections once again, but I do not believe it will be as hard as he thinks. _

_I saw her reaction to me every instance I have come across her. The first was obviously surprise. Of course, I wasn't expecting to see her either, so we were both shocked. But I also noted a very faint glimmer of hope in her eye. The second instance, when we spoke on the deck, she was melancholy, and hurt, but the flame of hope was stronger, if not by much, and I percieved a slight jump as she laid her hand on my arm. It was barely perceptible, and I doubt she even caught it, or indeed, if she had, paid it any mind. She once told me that touching me was akin to putting her hand near an open flame. That warmth seeped into every bit of her. I hope that feeling still lingers. _

_Finally, when I asked her father for a moment during thier chat at tea. Even unconsciously, she angled herself to see me better, even when she did her best not to draw attention to any association we may have. She still cares for me, I know it. Now I just have to draw it out. Let the world see our true intentions, whatever they may be._


	4. Discussions Are a Matter of Course

**_A/N 2/15/2020: Longer chapter, but I hit a writing groove and just went with it. I suggest y'all go back through and re read this one, just because I've made a few subtle changes, mostly to spelling, but some to smooth out the story a bit. I hope y'all also enjoy this newest bit. Let me know. Peace, Love, and Pop Rocks ~Angel_**

Rose seemed to have better ideas as to what to do with her day, other than harassing Cal for her amusement. This suited Cal just fine, as he had his own plans he wanted to see to. The first of which, was hunting down Isobel. She wasn't all that hard to find, he thought. Then again, one only had to know where to look, and Cal always knew.

He found her in the library. Lounging as much as decorum would allow in a public place, reading a decently sized book that she held demurly in her walked up to her, taking measured steps and ensuring that she heard his step without being obnoxious in his gait. She looked up, and smiled as her whole being seemed to let out a tension she didn't even know she carried.

"Caledon," she said softly. That tone of voice could always, and will always, make him want to fall to his knees and worship her. He knew then, if he didn't know before, that he could never be with any other but his beloved Belle.

"Isobel," he said just as softly, though whether he said it as such so as not to break the intimacy of the moment or the quiet atmosphere, one would have a hard time guessing. "I was wondering, if you would care to accompany me to tea. Or, if you would prefer," he added, suddenly hitting on an idea he knew she would love. "I could request we take tea in here. I would hate to take you away in the middle of your story." He gestured to her book and she chuckled.

"It's a story I've read many times, Cal. I've even read it to you once," she said, handing him the book. Looking down, he saw that it was Wuthering Heights. He shook his head.

"I still maintain that it is the single most ridiculous story I've heard. Heathcliff is a violent, sadistic, simple minded, abuser even by today's standards. I say that Catherine's death was a blessing, so that she wouldn't have had to see how badly her dearest love would have abused her or her child had she lived. And her death, just gave him the excuse he was looking for to let those sadistic feelings out all the more. The man threw a knife at a pregnant and infatuated Isabella for heaven's sake!" he said passionately.

Isobel chuckled. "These days, I only read it to relive cherished memories. Otherwise, I agree with you. Tea sounds wonderful. I would love to take you up on your offer. But wouldn't your fiancé be looking for you?"

Cal barely withheld a wince and shook his head. "No, she is amusing herself elsewhere today. She wouldn't be caught dead in a library unless it was for knowledge to use for personal gain, so this really is the perfect room to hide from her so to speak."

"Her loss, my gain. Join me," she said, gesturing to an empty seat as he waved to one of the serving staff and ordered tea.

"Tell me, do you still keep track of baseball standings?" he asked her. As he expected, she lit up.

"Of course! Dad and I went to go see the last of the Championship games where the Philidelphia Athletics wiped the field with the Giants. Dad was sure Philly would lose. Won me some decent pocket money off of the championship games."

Cal shook his head. "I see finishing school knocked that boy like behavior out of you," he said with a wide smile and a heavily sarcastic tone.

"Never!" she said back, clutching at an imaginary string of pearls.

"So tell me, what holds your interest most these days?" he asked her.

Seeing the genuine curiosity in his eyes, she answered. "Fashion. The Lady Duff-Gordon was kind enough to design a few gowns for me while we were in Southampton."

"So some of those demure learnings did stick. As I recall, your friend Alice couldn't get you to model a dress for her, even if she had to pull your hair."

Isobel shook her head gently. "She wants to see everything as soon as it's either hit the racks or she's designed it. Not to mention, everything is to her taste, whether it suites the person or not. Lady Duff-Gordon took my views and ideas in stride and incorporated them into the designs," she explained.

"And is the dress you are wearing one of her creations?" he asked, casting an appreciative eye over her form.

She nodded. "Yes, nearly everything I have with me now is designed by both of us. I am saving the best, of course, for the supper hours."

Cal leaned forward, the smirk he knew she loved, the one she always said was a mix of mischief and self deprication, though more of the first in this instance, as it was his goal to tease her. "Then I wait with bated breath to see you later this evening," he said lowly. A lovely little flush infused the cream of her cheeks as she gave a smile of her own.

"Then I must dress to impress."

o0o o0o

Cal ran into Lovejoy on his way to his room to change for the supper hour. If his Isobel was going to dress to impress, he could do nothing less himself. They gathered in his rooms and as Cal was removing his tie and jacket.

"The young miss was in young Mr. Dawson's company all day. She sought him out in the third class and they primarily walked the deck together. I do believe he was giving her spitting lessons when her mother and her party joined them just before it was time to ready for dinner," Lovejoy reported.

"It doesn't matter any more my friend. I can not keep up the pretense any longer. When we arrive in New York, I am breaking off the engagement," Caledon told him.

"It's Miss. Isobel, isn't it?" Cal turned to the Valet, who was laying out his supper clothes. Lovejoy looked up and chuckled at the look on his young charge's face. "I remember how happy you were when you first started courting her. And how happy she was with you. I did try to dissuade your father about this match, but, being a valet, I was ignored."

"Will you continue to keep an eye on Rose, Spicer? I will break it off no matter what, but if I could have proof that she was being unfaithful first, may save my hide with the public," he asked.

"Of course, sir," Lovejoy said with a bow. He was turning to leave when Cal addressed him again.

"Is there any way you could corner young Dawson for me. I wish to have a word with him before we dine."

"Right away, sir,"

It was as he was finishing his tie when Jack was ushered in, half dress himself. The young man blushed and looked down at his feet.

"Mrs. Brown was helping me. How you all can dress up in such clothes everyday is beyond me," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"I'll admit, they aren't all that comfortable. I particularly despise the constriction around the neck. But it is what is expected of us. Most of us grow up in society, so we just take it along with the good. I wanted to have a serious talk with you, Mr. Dawson," Cal said amiably, gesturing to a chair.

They both sat. "I wanted to first apologize for my behavior on deck last evening. I had run into an old acquaintance and between the shock of that and other daily pressures, I was at the end of my patience. I am sincerely sorry my frustration was aimed at you."

Jack looked momentarily shocked, but then nodded in acceptance. "In truth, I would have rather had the 20$, Mr. Hockley. Suppers are provided just as well in the third class, so this shindig isn't really necessary. With 20$, I could have found a roof for the next month, maybe. Gotten some more paper or something."

Cal nodded. "I am willing to give you said 20$ and my invitation to dinner tonight will still be good."

Jack nodded, "I appreciate it."

"I also wanted to ask, if you know what type of woman you are getting involved with, in persuing Rose," Cal asked, looking Jack in the eyes. Jack's eyes widened a bit as a blush again found his cheeks.

Cal chuckled. "Rose and I hold no love towards one another, Mr. Dawson. This is not news to anyone in our social circle. She seems happy to persue you for her own reasons. Mostly to pass the time. But I wonder if you _know _what kind of woman she is."

Jack shook his head. "She is a girl of many contradictions. Her actions very seldom line up with her true thoughts and intentions, do you understand? Speaking candidly, from my point of view, she drops hints to me that she wants me to be attentive to her and only her, yet when I ask for her opinion, she seems to think that I have already dismissed her ideas as childish and unimportant. She doesn't want anything material from me, and yet it was she who demanded the parlour rooms with the praminade, and a blue diamond necklace that was last legitimately worn by royalty. She is spoiled, and a child."

Jack shuffled uneasily, not wanting to just take the man's word for it. Cal understood this. "I will give you the 20$, and this night's supper. Did you have plans with her this evening?"

"I was going to invite her to a party below decks. The third class passengers are striking up a band and making use of thier gathering hall for it," Jack tells him reluctantly.

"I will have plans of my own, no need to worry. Observe Rose at lunch. Then take her to the party below decks and observe her there. See with your own eyes what I see. I will send my man to you sometime tomorrow to have another talk, if that is agreeable to you?"

Jack nodded, then stood. "I really should get going, Mr. Hockley. If I'm going to make this fancy dinner, that is," he said with a smirk and a hand held out to shake. Cal slapped a 20 dollar bill in his hand. Jack laughed and shook his hand before leaving.

o0o o0o

Jack was in awe at the first class accomodations. Particularly the grand stair case. It was a masterpiece with a clock right at the top. The perfect meeding place to meet Rose at later that night. He was just watching the men around him, trying to see and mimic thier mannerisms when he heard Cal enter with Rose's mother, coming down the staircase.

"Did you know there is 7 thousand tons of Hockley steel in this very ship?" Cal asked Ruth as they descended.

"Hmm, which part?" Ruth asked, uninterested.

"All the right ones, of course."

"Then we'll know who to hold accountable if there's a problem," she sneered, just as they passed Jack. Ruth either ignored him, or genuinely thought him invisible, but Cal gave a nod and a long suffering roll of the eyes towards Ruth.

"She'll be along," he said, as he caught sight of the Countess of Rothes. "There is the Countess," he said as they met up with her. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently.

"Hello, my dear."

"Good evening, Cal," the Countess said in greeting before she turned her attention to Ruth.

It was then Jack caught sight of Rose, descending the stairs. He thought she looked beautiful in a dress with salmon colored, though to him it looked like an interesting shade of pink, dress with black lace, threaded with black and silver beads. She wore white dinner gloves and enough jewelry for him to understand that she was definitely comfortable in this society.

They met each other at the bottom of the staircase, and Jack, gaining a sudden burst of confidence, took her hand and kissed her knuckles lightly. Then he explained himself.

"I saw that in a nickelodeon once, and I always wanted to do it," he said with a nervous chuckle, and Rose gave a laugh. He offered her his arm and they walked towards the dining room. In a few steps though, they found themselves behind Cal and Ruth.

"Darling," Rose said, and Jack took this moment to look into her eyes. Really look at her. They were vindictive. The eyes of a troublemaker. "Surely you remember Mr. Dawson?"

"Dawson?" Cal asked, as he looked the young man over. Cal was impressed. The youth cleaned up well. "Well, it's amazing. You could almost pass for a gentleman."

Jack looked at Cal, and knew he didn't mean anything snide about it. With thier conversation earlier, he knew Cal himself was uncomfortable.

Jack sucked his lips and raised his eyebrows. "Almost," he said.

"This is extraordinary," Cal said genuinely as he turned and once again offered his arm to Ruth.

They all made thier way into the dining room where Cal and Ruth struck up a conversation with the Lady Duff-Gordon.

"There's the Countess of Rothes," Rose whispered in his ear. Jack noticed now that she was heavily perfumed. As if it was coming from her very skin. She looked around and then directed his attention to a middle aged man with a young brunette on his arm.

"That's John Jacob Astor. The richest man on the ship. His little wifey there, Madeleine, is my age and in a delicate condition," she wispered in conspiritorily into his ear. Jack brightened. He loved children and wished to have his own someday. "See how she's trying to hide it?" she asked.

"Quite the scandal," she said somberly. Jack didn't like her tone. As if the fact married couples should never have children. "And that's Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress, Madame Aubert. Mrs. Guggenheim is at home with the children, of course. And over here we have Sir Cosmo and Lucile, Lady Duff-Gordon. She designes naughty lingerie, among her many talents," she says smugly as she waves to the woman, who politely waves back.

"Congratulations, Hockley. She's splendid," Sir Cosmo says to Cal.

Cal chuckled wryly. "Why, thank you," he says with some degree sarcasm that Ruth seemed to miss. Lady Duff-Gordon merely closed her eyes and shook her head. She didn't like Rose, knowing that the young woman only cared about the fact the designer made under garments. Not the beautifully designed dresses that graced runways every season.

"Care to escort a lady to dinner?" Jack heard at his elbow. He turned to see Maggie Brown smiling at him.

"Certainly," Jack said enthusiastically, offering his arm, before they continued on.

"There's ain't nothin' to it is there, Jack? Remember, they love money, so just pretend that you own a gold mine and youre in the club," the older woman told him before hollering out, "Hey, Astor!" to the man they were approaching.

"Well, hello, Molly. It's nice to see you," the man said in a pleasant mellow voice.

"J.J., Madeleine, I'd like you to meet Jack Dawson," Rose introduced.

"How do you do?" Madeleine said kindly, shaking his hand.

"Pleasure."

"Well, Jack," Astor said in his turn. "Are you of the Boston Dawsons?" he asked curiously.

Jack was stunned for a moment. Yes, he did have family on his father's side in Boston, but he hadn't heard from them since his parent's funerals. Figured they wouldn't want anything to do with him since they hadn't bothered to look for him.

"No, the Chippewa Falls Dawsons, actually," Jack said, just containing the stutter that wanted to escape.

"Oh, yes," Astor replied.

_Late Evening, April 11, 1912_

_The meal was as wonderful as any other on Titanic; and so much more. It was simultaniously a painful experience as I couldn't sit near my true beloved, having been herded between my shrew of a betrothed and her mother, and pure ectasy, when I saw Isobel. She was all that was angelic in a soft green gown that cinched with a sash at the waist and had a delicately pleated bust line. The simple white gloves and a modest flower hair comb in a plaited up hair style was everything her. Simple. She sat with her father on the other side next to Mr. Dawson, who had Maggie Brown to his other side, with whom Charles struck up a lively conversation about the younger man's travels on the west coast of the United States. I only hope neither Rose nor Ruth could see the looks I would often steal at the obect of my affections. Rose herself had a mean streak a mile wide. Her mother was absolutely ruthless, pun fully intended._

o0o o0o o0o

"Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Dawson. I hear they're quite good on this ship," Ruth said with a malicious smile.

Jack looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eye. He was willing to play the game. "The best I've seen, ma'am," he said with a solemn smile. "Hardly any rats."

There were scattered, nervous chuckles from some of the table, but Charles and Isobel laughed genuinely. Cal thought he had never heard a laugh so beautiful. Instead of embarrasing himself by scattering his wine in an attempt and immenant failure for the drink, due to his shaking hands, he explained Jack presence in thier company.

"Mr. Dawson is joining us from the third class. He was of some assistance to my fiancee last night," he said as he selected some fruit and cheese from a platter a server was presenting him.

"It turns out that Mr. Dawson with quite a fine artist. He was kind enough to show me some of his work today," Rose said softly to the table.

"Rose and I differ somewhat in our taste of fine art. Not to impugn your work, sir," Cal said. Jack, knowing that his work wouldn't be all that welcome in the present setting, sharply shook his head and waved off Cal's concern.

A server made his way over to Jack, and Rose trying to catch his attention, coughed into her napkin. But Charles had her beat, taking the napkin from the youth's plate himself, and sneakily gesturing to the waiter beside him. Then,, seeing his confusion at the assemblage of silverware at his plate setting, Isobel whispered, "It's daunting, I know, but start from the outside and work your way in. You grab the wrong utensil, dad and I have you covered. Personally, I'd be happy with a chilli dog from Coney Island, but-" she trailed off, and sitting up straight, shrugging her shoulders. Jack was staring at her in awe, but she was picking her own foodstuffs off of her own server.

Cal saw this, and felt a stab of jealousy. He knew, so long as he was attatched publicly to Rose, he had no say; and he contented himself with the fact Isobel had her attention elsewhere. He was brought back by Mr. Ismay's voice rising above the soft dinner chatter.

"He knows every rivet in her, don't you Thomas?"

"Your ship is a wonder, Mr. Andrews, truly," Rose tells the shipbuilder honestly.

"Thank you, Rose," the man said humbly.

They were serving the caviar when a waiter asked Jack how he liked his. "No caviar for me, thanks. Never did like it much."

"You and me both, kid. Tastes too much like cold salty fish jelly," Charles said. Isobel softly sighed and shook her head as she put a small amount of said fish jelly on a piece of crisp.

"And where exactly do you live, Mr. Dawson?" Ruth asked, turning the table's attention back to the young man's situation.

"Well, right now, my address is the RMS Titanic. After that, I'm on God's good humor," Jack says honestly.

"And how is it you have means to travel?"

"I work my way from place to place. You know, tramp steamers and such," he says, scratching his nose, knowing it'd ruffle her polite society feathers, and wanting to get a silent jab in. "But I won my ticket here on Titanic at a lucky hand at poker. A very lucky hand."

Ruth did bristle at his disrespectful gesture. The boy may as well have picked his nose! And Cal was loving every moment of it.

"All life is a game of luck," Colonel Gracie boomed.

Cal, putting down his wine glass, shook his head. "Hmm. A real man makes his own luck, Archie. Right, Dawson?"

Jack hmm'd and nodded.

"And you find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" Ruth asked with distaste.

Maggie Brown looked at the woman as though she wished Ruth was the one with no roots. Then she'd know how the small folk got along.

Jack took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering. "Yes, ma'am, I do. I mean, I've got everything I need right here with me. I've got air in my lungs and a few blank sheets of paper."

He picked up his roll and took a big bite, not even bothering to finish said bite and swallowing before he continued, causing Ruth to cringe, and Isobel and Charles to have eerily similar smirks widen thier cheeks.

"I mean I love waking up, not knowing what will happen or who I'm gonna meet. Where I'm gonna wind up. Just the other night, I was sleeping under a bridge, and now, here I am, on the grandest ship in the world, having champagn with you fine people." Jack raised his glass to the waiter for more of the sweet alcohol. "I figure life's a gift, and I don't intend on wasting it. You never know what hand you're gonna get dealt."

Cal had a cigarette in his mouth and was searching his pockets for some matches, when he was coming up empty. He had taken the slim stick into his fingers and was going to ask a waiter for one when Jack saw him.

"You learn to take life as it comes at you. Here you go, Cal," he said, tossing him a small box. Cal caught it and nodded his thanks. "To make each day count."

"Well said, Jack," Maggie said.

"Hear, hear!" exclaimed Gracie.

"To making it count," Rose toasted.

"To making it count!" everyone copied.

Jack, Isobel, Charles, and Caledon all wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but all withheld thier laughter. Normal conversation resumed for the next 45 minutes or so. All talking to everyone or thier neighbors at one point or another. Things were winding down with a story Maggie was telling about a great misshap her husband made.

"-But Mr. Brown didn't know I'd hidden the money in the stove," she said between gales of laughter. "So he comes home drunk as a pig celebrating and he lights a fire."

Rose leaned over and whispered to Jack. "Next, it'll be brandy's in the smoking room."

Right on cue, the Colonel stood. "Well, now. Join me in a brandy, gentlemen?" he asked the men of the table.

Rose gave a wry chuckle. "Now they'll retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe."

"Ladies, thank you for the pleasure of your company," Bruce Ismay said gallantly as he stood.

Cal leaned over the back of Roses chair and offered one last try of chivalry. "Rose, may I escort you back to your cabin?"

"No, I'll stay here," she waved him off. Cal sighed, shook his head, then nodded to Jack. The blonde stood and handed Maggie her pencil back.

"Joining us, Dawson?" Colonel Gracie asked. "You don't want to stay out here with the women, do you?"

"No, thanks. I've got to be heading back," Jack said amiably.

"Probably best. It'll be all business and politics. Wouldn't interest you," Cal said. Jack chuckled.

"Certainly not," he said lowly. Cal gave his arm a pat and started to walk away.

"But Dawson, good of you to come," he said, spinning and tossing his matches back to him. Lovejoy followed Cal, who leaned in.

"He's taking her to a party below decks. Follow them. Keep an eye out for any inappropriate behavior," Cal tells him.

"Anything I find, sir, will come straight to you," the valet said as he broke off down another corridor.

Charles caught up with Cal and passed his own message. "Belle will be in the library again in twenty minutes. Get her to talk to you Caledon. It will do both of you a world of good."

Cal nodded as Charles took his shoulder firmly. "Take care of my daughter. We'll take care of the rest around you. Your valet isn't the only one on the look out for you."

With that remark, the older man left, back towards the dining room. It was odd for Charles to miss out on a good cigar and brandy.

o0o o0o o0o

Charles caught up with young Jack just before the main staircase. He had business, and unlike his daughter, he wasn't afraid to get dirty to do it. Isobel was all morals. He loved her for her principles; but for the ones you love, sometimes, you need to do bad things to ensure thier happiness. He never does anything without all parties knowing thier parts and the consequences, but he will stoop low. Such as now.

"Young Dawson!" he calls softly. Jack turns and sees one of the men at the table approaching him. "I have a business proposition for you, young man. And I promise, it pays."

"What do you have in mind?" Jack asked curiously, his eyebrows raised.

"One thing my daughter and I share, is our need for complete honesty. So I'll be honest. You are close with young Rose DeWitt Bukater, are you not?" Charles asked.

"Sort of. We only met here on Titanic. I know her fiancée doesn't even like her, so he's giving me the option to know her. He told me to watch Rose at the dinner and I know we aren't compatible just from that. She wants to be someone who lives free of society, but she is comfortable there. She likes the routines and the doors the money opens. She wouldn't know what to do in hard times. In short, she's a brat. I figured, with Hockley's blessing, I can show her a taste of the third class here on the ship safely, and then we go our separate ways when we dock."

Charles nodded. "You mentioned you were effectively homeless. If you agree to my arrangement, I can give you a home in a fashion. I have land in Texas. It's just sitting there. I need it to turn a profit soon, or I'll just start losing money. I'll let you live there, provided you farm the land. You'll work for it. After 5 years, I'll sign it over to you and your family in total. All yours, and no one can touch it."

"And the catch?" Jack asked. It sounded amazing to him to have a home again. Especially since he would be using his hands to work for it.

"You are right. Rose is a brat. A child. Caledon is in love with my daughter. I would do anything for her happiness, young Jack. She is my daughter. My child, do you understand?" Jack nodded. "I want you to seduce Rose. Keep her interested in you. She needs to be the one to break the terms of the engagement to Caledon."

Jack was shocked. This was more like the back room deals he was more expecting from the high society types. But he had to admit, this Charlie guy was offering him a sweet deal.

"And how do I know you'll pay up after all is said and done on my end?" Jack asked, distrustful.

"I'll have it in writing. You can bring forward as many people as you trust to witness it's signing. I'll produce only Caledon, his valet, my own, and Colonel Gracie. He is a man of honor, if a bit boistrous," Charles said a bit bashfully.

"So long as you also invite Ms. Brown. I trust her," Jack said. Charles smiles brightly and held out his hand.

"I'll have papers drawn up tonight. Come by the church service in two days. I'll have the papers, even the deed for you, and everyone gathered by then."

It was then, Rose appeared, she saw Jack walking up the stairs towards the clock as the man who embarrassed her with his daughter the day before, walked down the hall, towards the first class berthings. She wondered what that was about before she decided it didn't matter right that moment. Rose walked slowly to the staircase as Jack was watching for the clock to chime the hour. She mounted them, and Jack turned, smelling her heavy perfume.

"So, do you want to go to a real party?" he asked with a glint of fun in his eyes.


	5. Cutting Ties

**_A/N 2/26/2020: Two points. 1. I will be updating DFTR 3 soon. I have had many messages asking me to update, and I will, hopefully within the next week. Don't hold me to that though. Work and my step daughter are talking precedence. 2. OT is kicking my a$$! I haven't had a full weekend in ages! but Thank you all so so much for your patience. With out further ado... I give you this next chapter in Caledon's Redemption._**

Isobel had twice been bitten by love. She was, and she herself would freely admit this, a hopeless romantic. She believed that people constantly ran into others that had the potential to become soul mates. And the term soul mate didn't just start and end with true love. Some could be your best friend, as with her friendship with Alice Brandon, or that soul mate could be in your life just long enough to impart some form of advise that you desperately needed, such as one girl she met on the reservation of her father's best friend Billy.

She had found refuge in the library once again, trying to compose herself after seeing Cal at supper. She had teased him that she was dressing to impress, and she did so, wearing one of her favorite creations she and the Lady Duff-Gordon had put together. But it seemed that Cal, too, had decided to dress impeccibly as he arrived in, like all of the other men in a finely tailored suit. Cal's however sported his own flare, with a cream colored waist coat and bow tie. His midnight hair, that Isobel had the hardest time not just reaching up and running her fingers through, slicked back out of his face with a slight pompadour look.

She knew she still loved him. She never stopped. But she had managed to dull the pain over time with activity, and eventually with Edward's company; but the moment she heard his voice again, it all came rushing back. She was madly, deeply, and painfully in love with the man. She looked forward to every time she heard his deep and cultured voice.

So here she was, in the library, seeking another distraction, though the book she had chosen was probably not the best for such a feat. She had chosen a childhood favorite, as it combined love and a sense of adventure for her. She liked that it pointed out a few flaws that are present even in today's society. She never thought, though, that she would be able to relate to Jane Eyre on any level. But, now, she found a sense of kinship with the mousey governess. How they both loved a man fiercely, and were forced, though by different circumstances, to give up thier love. She had just read through Rochester's first proposal when she was interrupted.

"And what great literary work has you so enraptured today?" she heard her favorite voice ask, as Cal walked up behind her.

"Jane Eyre," she replied as she looked up from the book.

"Another love story. In my opinion, much better than Wuthering Heights. Tell me, Isobel, what are your thoughts on Rochester? Do you think he was wrong in persuing happiness with Jane with a mad wife locked safe in his attic?" Cal asked as he sat in the chair facing her.

"If you had asked me that question when we had first gotten aquainted, I would have told you that Rochester should have been up front with Jane from the beginning. Or at least told her when he was confessing his feelings in the first place. They may have come to some sort arrangement."

"Wishful thinking," he said shaking his head. "Humans, men in love especially, are selfish creatures. We'll do anything to be with her."

Thier eyes locked and a soft flush made it's way to her cheeks and Caledon's eyes went from sincere and wanting to hungry. Her heart stuttered and jackrabbited in her chest as her breath turned shallow and came in small quiet pants. Attempting to regain what little composure she had managed when she had escaped supper to the nearly deserted library.

But it was no use. Her composure was well and truely broken. And especially with Caledon here in front of her, there was little if any hope for her to regain it. A tear fell from her, splashing on the book in her lap with a tiney wet thump. She gave a quiet sniffle, hoping he wouldn't draw attention to it, but Cal was ever her white knight.

"Isobel," he whispered softly as he got up from his chair and bent on one knee in front of her. One of his hands going to the side of her face, the thumb whiping away the tears as they came, and the other went to his pocket, where he produced a fresh white handkerchief.

"Caledon, I- I," she said just as softly, wraping her hand around the one that was holding out the clean square of cloth. She looked up to him again, and she noticed that his hair had come loose from it's well placed slicked back looke that he had at supper. A lock falling attractively in front of his eyes. "I love you."

His eyes widened for a moment before they became gentle. He didn't say anything, and Isobel felt that she had to continue her thought, or he might think that she was going mental.

"I never stopped loving you. Even when Edward was courting me, it felt as though something was missing. And it was. It was all wrong. He was all wrong. You're the only one I wanted and the only one I still want. I-"

During her rambling, Cal's face never lost the gentle look, but two other emotions became present too. Bemusement and complete adoration. The hand that had held the handkerchief and was captured in hers, reached forward and enclosed her face between it and it's partner and pulled her forward, as his lips gently captured hers. For all the intimacy of the act, it was still rather chaste. His lips pressing firmly to hers but remaining closed so he didn't scare her off. He held the position for a few moments before backing away.

"You always have been, and always will be the only woman to hold my heart, Isobel," he said lowly to her as he pulled away. She gave a happy if watery chuckle in pure ecstacy as her hands mimiced his, taking his face and pulling him back to her, resuming the kiss.

"I love you. You're the only one," he would say in between kissed. The ghost of his breath caressing her face.

"Isobel?" he asked, pulling away from her. She looked at him with complete trust and adoration. He smiled at her lovingly. "Will you marry me? Here. On this ship?"

o0o o0o o0o

The party below decks was an entirely new and somewhat uncomfortable for Rose. She gained a small, if somewhat fleeting, moment of triumph when she spotted the look of jealousy on young Cora Cartmell's face. But there was no true enjoyment of making a young girl jealous. There was no true competition there. She didn't really like making a fool of herself, dancing when there were not actual steps to follow.

Her show of what little ballet skill she still possessed will make itself known for the next week as the swelling in her toes went down. How she will fit into her slippers and heels for the rest of the voyage she didn't know. However uncomfortable she was though, she couldn't deny that the party with Jack was the perfect way to spit in Cal's eyes, letting him know that she will never be controlled. And at the same time, infuriate her mother for her lack of decorum. And if she were honest, she found enjoyment in stringing this little gutter rat along. The lower class were always so eager to please.

She was able to sneak back into her room easily enough last night, and she was quite proud of herself for not showing her fatigue when Trudy came in that morning to get her ready for the day. Right now, she was going through the daunting task of breaking her fast with the spineless worm her mother had betrothed her to.

Once her maid and the White Star Line waiter had left to do thier other duties, Cal spoke.

"You didn't answer your door last night, when I called on you," he said with monotony.

"I was tired," she breathed indiferently.

"Yes. Your exertions below decks were no doubt exhausting," he bit sarcastically as he sipped his coffee.

"I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me. How typical," she said, leaning forward and placing her tea back onto the table.

"In all honesty, Rose, I no longer care what you do," he said looking at her. "When this voyage is over, you and I will go our separate ways, and that'll be the end of it."

"What are you talking about?! You can't be rid of me that easily, I'm your fiancé!" she said with rising indignation.

"No, you are not." His simple statement, said with absolute certainty caused her to pause. This gave him the chance he needed to elaborate. "I wired my father yesterday telling him I'm calling off our engagement. I recieved word back this morning that should I go through with it, he would disown me, and give my inheritence to my younger brother August. Considering we are having this conversation, I think it's pretty obvious what my decision is."

"You can't do this!" she hissed. "You wouldn't be allowed in polite society again, at the very least gain another prosperous match."

"That should tell you how much I dispise the thought of becoming your husband, then, shouldn't it? I would rather become destitute, living in slums, than even think of giving you my name, let alone bed you," he sneered hatefully, setting his own cup down.

"Does this have anything to do with that little tart we dined with last night?" she asked calmly. "You didn't honestly think I didn't notice the glaces the two of you were giving each other? What was she? A passing fling. I could make her time here on Titanic a nightmare you know?" she threatened menacingly.

It was a straw too far. Caledon flipped the table and was leaning over her chair and into her face before she could even finish her cry of startlement. He leaned close into her ear so only she could hear what he had to say. "If you so much as think about going near Isobel or her father," he said in a voice that caused the bile in her stomach to start to rise in her throat. "You will find that I am not the only one who will be after your head. I would just have the easiest time getting to you and in so doing, have the most time to make you regret even setting sights on her. Is this in any way unclear?"

Rose shook her head in genuine fear. "N-no," she managed to get out.

"Good. Excuse me," he said before stomping out of the promenade deck.

Now that that obligation was over with, he had more pleasant thoughts to turn to. He had spoken to Ruth earlier that morning, and had left her in a towering rage, and was happier than he had felt in a very long time. He headed to Charle's room, hoping to talk to the man before he and Isobel went to break thier own fasts. Knocking on his door, it was answered by his valet, young Sam.

"It's Mr. Hockley for you, Charlie," the boy said. Cal smiled at him. He looked to be one the boys from the reservation. Probably Charle's valet in pretense. An excuse for him to see the world to his parents and earn a bit of pocket change for whoever caught his fancy back home. He'd have a tale to tell of his own.

"Caledon," Charles said brightly as he came into the room tying his tie. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm good Charles. I come with news," Cal tells him.

"Well, take a seat while I get us a couple of drinks then," Isobel's father said as he gestured to the seats and went to his small bar.

"I have asked Isobel to marry me," Cal said without preamble.

"Hmm, I figured it wouldn't be long. Before you asked nor the actual wedding. You were thinking having the captain marry you, were you not?"

Cal nodded. "There's something else. I've wired my father to tell him I would no longer marry Rose DeWitt Bukater. He said if I wasn't going through with the marriage, he would cut me off. I am now, effectively, penniless."

"It means little, Caledon. Should you wish, I'll teach you the trade of my business, as I did with Isobel, and you both will run it together. It's much smaller than your father's steel magnate, but it is modest, and neither of you will go hungry."

"Thank you. I would be honored!" Cal said with feeling. "I was thinking of wedding Isobel tomorrow evening. You, of course will be there, but we were also thinking of inviting Maggie and young Jack Dawson as witnesses."

Charles nodded. "Sound solid enough. I have business with Mr. Dawson tomorrow morning during the church service if you would join me. I'm giving him some land in exchange for some services. This way, people will see that you have a just reason for breaking off your engagement with Ms. DeWitt Bukater rather than just because you were in love with another. They don't have to know you called it off before hand. And if she tries to tell them, well, it is a sad fact that most people will think that she is trying to save face, rather than telling the truth. We just won't correct them."

"We may have to keep and eye on her and Ruth," Caledon tells Charles. "Neither were happy that I called everything off. Rose even brought up Isobel. I threatened her a little, but I know that won't deter her for long."

Charles nods. "Sam in inconspicuous enough. I'll have him keep an eye on her mother. You might want to have your man, Lovejoy dog the younger woman's heels until we reach New York," he says. Caledon agrees with a simple nod.

o0o o0o o0o

Trudy was tightening up Rose's corset when Ruth entered her room. Ruth ordered Trudy to get thier tea before she set to the task to tightening Rose's corset to an extraordinary tightness.

"Your dalliance with that boy from steerage has cost us everything!" Ruth bit out, the last word punctuated by an extra hard yank on her corset laces.

"Not yet. There is a way to get him back. It'll just take a bit of planning," Rose said.

"What ever you are thinking, forget it!" Ruth all but yelled at her. "You little games with Hockley are useless now. I recieved a telegram from Nathan that he has disowned Caledon. He is willing to endorse an engagement with his second son, August. He is a mere six months older than you. It is still a fine match."

Rose cringed. She had met August. Where Caledon was muscle and good looks, even if he was spineless, August was overweight and had an unforgiving disposition. Between the two, Caledon was more maleable.

"No. The match will go ahead with August. What ever plans you are concocting, I forbit it," Ruth said with finality.

"Oh stop it, mother. You'll give yourself a nose bleed."

Ruth grabbed her daughter's shoulder and turned her. "This is not a game. Our situation is precarious. You know the money is gone."

"Of course I know it's gone. You remind me every day," Rose said with an eye roll.

"Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name. That name is the only card we have to play. I don't understand you. It was a fine match with Caledon. And it is a fine match with August. It will ensure our survival," Ruth explained.

"How could you put this on my shoulders?" Rose asked petulantly.

"Why are you being so selfish?" Ruth asked.

"I'm being selfish?!"

"Playing your little games. You play that you want to be a free spirit and go where the wind takes you, but you love the money and influence too much, little girl. Caledon gave in to our every whim and you drive him away for a third class dalliance that won't last longer than this trip to New York?! The way you're going, I'm going to be working as a seamstress in a back ally, our fine things will be sold at auction, and our memories will be scattered to the four winds."

Ruth ended her little speech with a hand over her mouth as she turned away. Rose was good at her games, but Ruth as a master.

"It's so unfair," Rose whispered.

"Of course it's unfair. We're women," Ruth said turning back to her daughter. "Our choices are never easy." Ruth looked at Rose for a moment before kissing her cheek lightly and turning her around to fix her corset laces. Rose wouldn't stand for it though. She'd rather a spineless worm than an unforgiving authoritarian.


	6. Union on the Eve

_**A/N 3/28/2020: Hey y'all. I don't have much to say. Just that I felt like writing a little bit now that the little one is down for the night and we have time to ourselves for our mutual amusement. If the writing styleis out of character, I'm sorry. I've been listening to A LOT of classics. Re read Jane Eyre. Pride and Prejudice. Mansfield Park. I like old romances. They're so... romantic! Rofl Also, I should have a bit more time to write in the future, but I won't guarantee it. Because of the decline in the economy, I still have my job, but they seriously cut my hours. I hope I won't need another job before this whole nuttiness is over. Depends on how motivated I feel. Anyway, I hope y'all are staying safe and are healthy. Enjoy!  
**_

The next day was relatively quiet from Ruth and Rose. Cal had put that down to the fact that he had called off the engagement, but he had learned long ago that a quiet Rose was much like a quiet little ankle biter of a yappy dog. She was up to something. Lovejoy had tailed her and said that she had spent the day in the company of Jack Dawson or was talking to Thomas Andrews. The first he was expecting, but he didn't know what reason she was talking to Andrews. Maybe just an idle curiosity.

Caledon himself had spent his time with Isobel either in the library or in her father's rooms, talking over plans. Charles had the papers drawn up for Jack on his promise of land. He had also filled Isobel in on the deal he had with Jack. She wasn't impressed, and was a little concerned about Rose's feelings in this matter. She may not like the girl and think her a spoiled brat, but what if Rose truly harbored feelings for Jack? Cal assured her that he would be surprised. Rose tended to follow money for love interests, and had a general disdain for those of a lower social class. The only reason she didn't like Cal and fought him was because it was thier parents that set up the match. She saw it as them taking away that free will. She railed against it, instead of talking to her mother. Though Cal had to admit that her ralationship with her mother is nothing like the one Isobel and Charles shared.

In the end, Isobel capitulated, though she still didn't like the thought, she'd admit to herself only that she was selfish enough now to go after what she wanted. She tried going about love the easy way. The good girl way. Now she was fighting with her claws out and teeth bared.

Isobel managed to gain Maggie and the Lady Duff-Gordon's help in which of the dresses she had with her would do for a wedding gown. Thankfully, she and Cal had agreed to go through with a public ceremony at a later date, but for now, this ceremony was for them. The girls had decided on a dress that had and East Indian feel. The top was patterned in colors of beige, tan and light turquoise. The skirt, which came up to one shoulder to introduce a Sari feel, was a pale pink, with white patterned flowers throughout. It wasn't the traditional white, but it was one of the lighter dresses she had that had no purple or black in it.

Maggie added in a lovely wreath necklace she had gotten in New York as something borrowed, and her father had presented her with a favored handkerchief as something blue. The traditional six-pence in her left shoe from the Lady. Her mother's bracelet, a single pearl on a thin gold chain, as something old, and she didn't have anyting new, except the dress, but Isobel was willing to let that one slide considering that tomorrow she would have a new husband. That had to count, right?

Cal, who spent the time Isobel was with the ladies with Charles, was just as nervously getting his affairs settled for the next day. He had requested another cabin, as both Ruth and Rose knew the one he was currently residing in, and he didn't want them to get thier hands on certain items. After obtaining a first class room farther aft than the one he had previously occupied, he transfered said certain items, the blue diamond necklace, several stacks of money, and legal documents. No need for that little social climber to get her hands on it.

The day was spent in relative peace for all parties. Even Ruth and Rose. The former, satisfied in the match with a Hockley heir that she had made for her daughter, and the latter simultaniously in young Jack Dawson's company and, in the deepest reaches of her mind, scheming against Cal's little side piece.

It was the next day that all parties were anticipating. Caledon and Isobel were excitedly anticipating thier marriage with thier family and friends as witnesses. Ruth, in high spirits, as it seemed her headstrong daughter had finally accepted her engagement with the younger Hockley heir, and Rose, because she had finally settled on a course of action. A course that had seemed to hit a small speed bump right in the middle of the church hours.

A White Star Line steward had come up to Caledon, and whispered in his ear. Her fiancé nodded, but made no move to get up, so that was something. But then the steward made his way to the father of the woman she hated most, and whispered into his ear. He did get up, along with his daughter, and exited through a side door. She was sure that since the steward had spoken to Cal, that he would up and leave sometime during the service, but he didn't. Eventually, she was assured that Caledon wouldn't follow the girl and her father, and put her focus back onto the hymn in front of her. She was focusing so hard on her percieved target, Caledon, that she never noticed the others slip out of the congregation.

o0o o0o o0o

Cal and Charles had come up with a plan of attack, so to speak, the previous evening, and had subsequently sent Lovejoy off to find young Dawson after Rose had left him, to fill him in on his part of the plan. He was to come to the church service, and ask the stewards at the door to please pull aside Charles and his daughter for a bit of business. In the mean time, he would also drop a word into Caledon's ear, that the provisions he had asked Jack and Lovejoy to procure from his rooms, were in the Captain's quarters, ready for his coming nuptials. Caledon would not follow the two, sure that Rose wasn't bright enough to make any connections, and to set her at her ease about any plans they may or may not have thought of. That was a change from the original plan, but Caledon had put forward that he didn't trust Rose not to sneak off after them just to see what they were up to, and then the plan will have been given away.

That part worked without a hitch. Charles had met Jack in the hall, away from sight of the doors, with a beaming smile, a handshake, and his beautiful daughter Isobel. Even he had to admit she was gorgeous, though he knew her affections to be completely claimed by the man he was assisting in gaining her hand.

"Well, young Jack? What say you to getting some papers signed, and a wedding for after?" the man asked amiably.

Jack smiled. "Sounds like a solid plan to me, sir."

"Sir! Don't you dare, you and I are going into business together afterall. Call me Charles."

Jack gave the man a single nod of his head in acknowledgment, and followed him to his room. There, they were met by Maggie, JJ Astor, and others. Charles walked immediately to the table in the middle of the room that heald the contract for land for services rendered, after a 5 year period of work that is.

"I've had the papers drawn up, and the people you wished most to have here. John," here he motioned to the tall man Jack had conversed with two nights previously, "has rather extensive knowledge in real estate and maintaining land. I believe he would be an invaluable asset, should you wish to get to know him."

Jack stepped farther into the room, and shook the man's hand. Astor gave Jack the same searching look now as he did then.

"I am sure I know your face, Jack," the man said, dropping his hand. Jack gave a small chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck in nervousness.

"Suppose you would. I am a part of the Boston Dawsons, on my mother's side. I took her name when I left home after she and Pa died. My real name is Whitlock. Peter Whitlock Jr."

"Ah! I knew it. Young Elisa must be your mother then?" he ejaculated.

Jack nodded. "She was. I knew that carring her name would be risky. Anyone in high society would know the name. But I wasn't planning on moving in high society circles. I jumped at the chance Charles offered me, because my brother, Jasper, currently has the family holdings in Texas. It would be nice to be within visiting distance once this voyage is over. With holdings of my own that I may not have gotten honorably, but I did get them on my own. That was my goal. To earn what I had."

"That is honorable on it's own merit. Don't worry about how it's gotten, so long as you understand the consequences. No one in society will hear about this from those of us in the room. I promise you that. But only you can tell if you can live with doing this to a young girl. Toying with her emotions and taking advantage of that," Charles said. Jack nodded.

He took the pen Charles offered without hesitation, and signed the contract that had been prepared, all three copies. One was to stay with him, one was to stay with Charles, and one would go to Charle's solicitor, sent off the moment they touched American soil. He then watched as Charles signed it, and everyone that were called on to witness it. Maggie, Colonel Gracie, and JJ Astor as a last minute addition.

Once the signing was done, and the mutual parties had thier copies, everyone shook Jack's hand or, in Maggie and Isobel's cases, kissed his cheek in congratulation.

"Thank you, Jack. You have no idea what this means to Caledon and I," she tells him softly with a smile that matched her father's exactly.

"That, and Cal's assurance that Rose's feelings are more mercenary than originally thought, is why I can live doing this. My own observations own that she is much more concerned with how she thinks others see her, and how she sees herself, than the feelings of those she steps on to reach the goal she wants."

"We had better get back before we are noticed missing," JJ said. "We can make our way into the crowd as the church service lets out."

A last round of congratulations and goodbyes to Jack, and everyone filed out, making thier way back to the service. Jack, who figured a scene wouldn't go amiss in gaining Rose's attention. It was, afterall, his mission and goal to bed her. He followed the others back, and was relieved to see that the service was still in full swing. It seemed the others had made it safely back into the room, save Charles and Isobel, who had made their way to the Captain's quarters to ready the bride for her bridegroom. He had a quiet word with the steward at the door, asking him to play along with him trying to gain entrance to see Rose, and the man to turn him away. The steward agreed. Lovejoy eventually came out, puzzled, but he too played his part once all was explained. Jack was then lead away, and hopefully, gained some sort of esteem in Rose's eyes.

o0o o0o o0o

The church service was followed by a tour of the ship. Cal was obliged to follow, leading Ruth as this wasn't an engagement he could just skip out on. It would look bad on himself, as he is the one who asked for the tour once they had boarded the ship, and he was going to the Captain's rooms after anyway, may as well discreetly follow him once the tour was over.

"And why do you have two steering wheels?" Ruth asked. They were on the bridge; the captain showing the signals and men off.

"We really only use this near shore," Thomas Andrews explains in his soft Irish lilt, gesturing to the second helm.

A telegraph operator walked up to the captain and handed him a slip of paper. "Excuse me, sir. Another ice warning. This one's from the Noordam." The captain read the message, then looked up to see concern on Ruth and Rose's faces. l

"Oh, not to worry," he said cheerfully. "quite normal for this time of year. In fact, we're speeding up. I've just ordered the last boilers lit."

They walked the decks for a bit and Cal caught a remarkably astute question from Rose, and had to admit curiosity himself on the subject. She was walking and talking with Thomas Andrews, and subtly flirting, learning all she could of the ship. He didn't expect the reason behind that could be good, but he would leave it alone for now.

"Mr. Andrews... forgive me. I did the sum in my head... and with the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned... forgive me, but it seems that there are not enough for everyone aboard," she said demurely.

"About half, actually," Andrews said, stopping and turning to look at her. While he was devotedly married these many years, he was charmed at Rose's attentions. "Rose, you miss nothing, do you?"

Rose gave a small smile, but continued to listen. "In fact, I put in these new type davits... which can take an extra row of boats inside this one. But it was thought, by some that the deck would look too cluttered. So, I was overruled."

Cal lead Ruth around and knocked on of the boats with his cane. "It's a waste of deck space as it is on an unsinkable ship," he said to the ship builder hautily.

"Sleep soundly, young Rose. I have built you a good ship, strong and true. She's all the lifeboat you need," Andrews said confidently as he followed the others. "Just keep heading aft. The next stop will be the engine room."

Cal noticed Rose's absence almost immediately. And at the first optimal moment, when Ruth had let go of his arm to decend the staircase to the lower decks, he made his escape, with nary a glance back. It was time.

o0o o0o o0o

Jack was in a bind. He had thought that he had Rose's attention for sure after his display at the church service. But the little brat was bound and determined either to lead him on, which Jack had to admit, was most uncomfortable and idiotic in the most dramatic way, or her focus was elsewhere. Which wouldn't do, as her focus was supposed to be on him. If it wasn't, he wasn't doing his job properly. She went on and on about how she couldn't be seen with him any longer. How she loved Cal, and was going to marry him. Jack gave a mental snort at that one. The girl was delusional.

She had left him high and dry in the gymnasium, wondering how the hell he was going to get things back on track.

o0o o0o o0o

The sun was setting and Cal had met Isobel and her father in the captain's quarters as planned. And a more beautiful vision he had never beheld. And was subsequently struck with the almost overpowering urge to kneel at this angel's feet, and make her his idol. For nothing on earth could be so lovely, and must surely be of celestial origin.

Everything was ready. Isobel even had a small cluster of flowers begged from a lady's maid for the occasion. He walked to her, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She leaned into the touch, closing her eyes and savoring the contact.

"Shall we begin," the Captain said softly, breaking their moment to remind them of why they were there. There would be time for tender touches and carresses later in the evening. The both looked to the man, and he smiled.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?" he asked. Charles stepped forward.

"Myself." He approached them and took Isobel's hand, kissing her forehead in fatherly affection before giving her hand to Cal, who rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. Charles stepped back and proceeded to watch the intimate ceremony.

"And is there any among you who would object or declare an impediment for such a union?" Captain Smith asked. He gave a moment, but there was no answer.

"I'm not one for standing on ceremony in less formal occasions, and this, I believe we can all agree, is most definitely the case, so Caledon, do you take Isobel for your wife?" he asked.

"I do," Caledon said firmly, warmly, and with completely confidence.

Smith nodded. "Isobel, will you accept Caledon as your husband?"

"Yes, I do," she affirmed with a glassy eyed illuminating smile.

"Then you are man and wife. You may kiss your bride, young Hockley," Smith tells him, and Caledon didn't need a second chance. He gently placed one hand to the base of Isobel's skull at the back of her neck and led her forward as she met his kiss, throwing her arms about his neck in jubilation.

The kiss was short, but passionate. And once they parted, they recieved all congratulations due to them from the assembled handful of friends with them.

_April 14, 1912_

_She is mine at last. Smith married us barely an hour ago, and I can not wipe the smile from my face. Isobel returned to her room to collect her things, and spend a few more last moments with her father. I do no begrudge her this. They are very close, and I will do everything in my power to see that nothing would come between such a close relationship. Charles even told me to view him as my father, should I wish. Oh, how I most certainly wish. The man has shown me more care and attention than my own when he called me his. I accepted his offer. _

_Once we dock in New York, I will disembark with my family, and from there, we will make our way home. By home, I mean of course, Charle's and Isobel's home in Washington. Since Hockley Steel is out of my reach, Charles has offered me a chance to learn his lumber business, to run with Isobel should anything befall the great man. _

_I must go now, however. I have but a few more moments to myself before I refuse to let my bride out of my site for the foreseeable future, and I wish to spend what time remaines to me to make sure my current dwelling is to her satisfaction. We have everything she could possibly want for the last days of this journey, without having to leave these rooms. And I intend on making the most of it._

o0o o0o o0o

Young Hockley looked up from the Journal he was reading from to look at the faces of the expiditionary crew in front of him. There were a mixture of expressions from disbelief to amazement, to soft smiles of those who had married thier one true loves.

"The night of the sinking. This is where things will get a bit dramatic. Grandfather doesn't have time to write in here again until after the sinking, but when I was older, about 14 or so, and they were nearing the end of thier lives, I asked for the unabridged version that wasn't so sugar coated. And your precious Rose was a very naughty girl in her younger days," he tells them.

"Well to be honest, I don't hold much opinion of Jack at the moment, if your story is genuine," Lewis said.

"You want proof?" Hockley said, pulling out photos. "They do after all say, a picture is worth a thousand words."

He handed over the photos. "The top one are my grandparents, Caledon and Isobel when they did the whole ceremony thing a couple years after the sinking." Therein stood a striking man in a modest suit trying to pull off the serious pose of the time in all wedding photos. He was failing. He may have been looking at the photographer, but his eyes held all the beaming pride of a new bridegroom, though they had at that point, been married a good two years beforehand. The woman, Isobel, was in a wedding dress so unlike the time. I had sleeves and lace, sure, but no poofy balloons at her shoulders or exhuberant head dresses. Her hair was curled and pulled back in a stylish bun and a slight volumous pompedour in the front. A very classical beauty without the rediculousness of the time.

The second photo was of two men. "Jasper and Peter Whitlock. Peter the one on the horse, is Jack. I asked my grandparents where the name Jack came from. They said Peter told them it was the name of his horse when he was younger. Black Jack. He liked the name, so took it as part of his alias."

The final picture was part of a newspaper article. It was the same as the first photo, but the story contained in the article was what they paid attention to. Brock looked up from reading it, questions in his eyes. Hockley smiled and nodded.

"I'll get to that in due time. But that's the end of the story. And if you think about it, and you won't have to do that too hard, quite a funny and fitting end." The audience nodded and turned thier attention back to the young man.

"So my grandparents had thier honeymoon on the very ship they were married. And though they got their happy ending, they really should have paid more attention to Grandfather's ex."


	7. Consummation

**_A/N: As with my Mummy/Twilight fic, I figured I'd post what I had for now. I'm busier than a Black Friday morning at the MOA, but I do want to continue writing. I hope y'all like. I like this chapter, short as it is. ~Angel_**

It was while Rose was spending time with Jack, him drawing the picture now not even half the ship's length away, that Cal was spending his now unlimited time with his new bride wisely. He was making sure even the smallest touches were to her satisfaction. Caledon had made sure there were fresh flowers by the bed, the window was cracked, letting in a soft breeze as the ship made it's way across the Northern Atlantic. He had devested himself of his formal jacket and waistcoat, and loosened his tie. His hair had come out of it's usually immaculate combed back fixture, to a more relaxed position, with a lock falling in front of his forhead.

It was as he was turning down the bed clothes that Isobel entered. She beamed at him when she first beheld him upon entering the room. This was the Cal she liked best. Relaxed and free of the cares of the world, even if just for a few moments. He opened his arms in welcome, and she went to him, gladly. His hands framing her face when she came to stand in front of him, and he kissed her softly, and tenderly.

"My dear, Isobel. Don't think you can escape me now. What was it Rochester said? 'God pardon me! And man meddle not with me: I have her, and willl hold her.' I will let nothing come between us, my love. Be they man or deity," he said passionately.

Isobel brought her hand up to meet his on her cheek. "It's too late now at any rate. The Captain has already married us. They can meddle all they want. What's done is done," she said softly. "And I wouldn't change it for the stars."

He kissed her again and gently lead her to the bed, where he laid her down and covered her body with his. Her every curve moulding to his every angle. Her hands clenched in his shirt and brought is up, untucking it so she can bring her hands under it to explore his chest. Cal took the problem out of her way when he just removed his shirt. His hands weren't idle either. Once the offending article was out of the way, he hiked up her dress and his fingers explored the line of her stockings, unlacing the ties and sliding them off.

Isobel took the time to remove her dress, and Cal saw that she was missing a crucial part of her wardrobe.

"Why Mrs. Hockley. You aren't wearing a corset," he said with a smug glint in his eye.

"You should know Mr. Hockley that I fully support the faminist movement. I'm just not unnecessarily vocal about it. Besides, will you really begrudge me not wearing one on my wedding night?"

"Not at all! Cumbersome things, corsets, and they take entirely too long to unlace," he said before kissing her once again.

Thier need grew to a fever pitch, and soon, all clothes that were on were out of the way and they were exploring each other with abandon. It was when Isobel unexpectedly took him in hand that he looked at her in surprise. Isobel had never been one to shy away from what she wanted. It was when she had what she wanted that she usually stopped to consider the ramifications. Such as now.

It seemed that now that she had his erect cock in her hand that she felt embarassed. Cal covered her hand with his own and showed her just how to stroke him. She looked at him uncertainly at first, but then gained confidence as he took his hand away. His breathing picked up as he held himself back from finishing too early. It was nearly painful, but so beautiful in her innocence and want to please.

Cal continued to kiss her as his hand went to her breast, gently pinching and rolling her nipple. She gave a small moan at the feeling of pure ecstacy raced through her, and pooled in her sex. It was then Cal stopped her hand and looked at her.

"It's time," he said softly. Isobel nodded. Cal maintained eye contact as he slowly entered her. He saw her wince as he stretched her. He was going to stop at her barrier to give her time to adjust, but she took that out of his hands when she latched onto him and pulled him into her completely. He groaned at the sudden feeling of her around him. Hot and tight. He was the one that needed the moment.

Isobel for her part felt the pain of her barrier tearing. But comparatively, it was nothing to other hurts she had in the past. It was the slight after hurt and the unfamiliar and uncomfortable intrusion she needed to get used to. But the feeling she got when he moved! Oh, that was breath taking. Literally, all of the breath left her in a low, slow, and prolonged moan of pleasure.

She clung to him as he moved within her. Trying to pull him farther into her. To mould them together.

"C-Cal. Caledon, I'm- I-," she stuttered. She needed a release. Needed that building feeling within her to burst.

"Not yet, Isobel. Wait for me," he ground out. "Wait. Wait," he said in between kisses to her face. She breathed as deeply as the pleasure shooting up from her core would allow her. It was difficult as his pelvic bone would rub deliciously against her every time he pushed into her. He breathed in a gasp every time, and exhaled when he left her, leaving her in pain for those split seconds he was away from her.

He didn't tell her to let go. Not with words. He instead reached between them with one hand, as his other grabbed hold of the one hand she had clutching at the pillow at her head, and brushed her clit effortlessly. The pressure released, and flowed out of her in waved. She cried out, throwing her head back as she rode the pleasure out of herself.

On feeling her tighten and release around him, and seeing her cry out her pleasure, Cal's head fell to her shoulder as the pleasure was ripped from him. He felt the hot flood leave him and into her, starting at the base of his very spine, stiffening his body in the process.

Cal rolled to the side once he regained his bearings, so as not to crush his new wife, and gathered her into his arms. She came willingly, curling into his side in sleepy sated contentment. Cal kissed the top of her head.

"I love you, Isobel," he whispered to her.

Isobel nuzzled into him. "Hmm, love you, too," she said in a barely coherent breath. Cal chuckled and joined her in Morpheus's realm.

o0o o0o o0o

Rose spent the time Jack was drawing her plotting against Cal. It only took a few coy teasing comments to get him to fully focus on the drawing. She figured she could use the necklace she was currently wearing to her advantage. It wasn't the blue diamond she wanted. It seemed Cal didn't trust her any longer, and had the safe removed from the joined sitting room she had with her mother. But the one she was wearing was still extremely valuable. A wreath with emeralds and diamonds. She had asked Jack to draw the Heart of the Ocean into the drawing. Just because she couldn't get her hands on the real thing didn't mean others who would see the drawing would know the difference. For all his poor faults, Jack truly was an artist.

She would slip the necklace onto the little harlot and raise hell with the Master at Arms until it was found on the 'guilty' party and returned. It was getting it onto her that was going to be the most difficult part. She couldn't count on her mother to help. She was content on Rose marrying the new Hockley heir. Rose gave a small shudder at the prospect. No way in hell. She would get her man. Then she'd give him hell for straying.

o0o o0o o0o

Lovejoy pulled Charles aside as he was speaking to Sir Duff Gordon and Colonel Gracie.

"Mr. Hockley and your daughter are well and truly retired for the night. But it's Miss. DeWitt-Bukater I'm worried about. She and young Dawson are in her rooms. He is drawing her, but to do so, she has to sit still in one pose," he tells the man.

Charles chuckles. "He actually managed to get her to sit still and quietly. If nothing else, he got her to do what not even her mother could."

"There's a reason we kept that to a minimum with her. The girl has an annoying habit of plotting and scheming to cause trouble. If she were to step out of that room, we would have to keep a careful eye on her. Moreso than we have. I'm hoping Mr. Hockley will keep to his promise to keep both him and his new wife safely within the walls of thier room."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," Charles rejoined. "Young Caledon has been plotting such, himself, since he fell for Isobel. I'm certain the only thing that would drag him from that room now is a disaster, and even then it would have to be endangering him or my daughter directly to remove him from it."

He thought a moment before continuing. "You really think she would stir up such a fuss?" he asked worriedly.

"I wish I could be unsure, but I am, unfortunately, counting on it. Especially since I've had a telegram from Mr. Hockley Sr. He orders me to keep an eye on Miss. DeWitt Bukater for his new heir. She will do anything not to marry August. He is cruel and in every way, a miniature of his father," Lovejoy tells him.

Charles sighs. "Then we will have to be diligent. You should return. See if you can't keep her on her toes and not give her the chance. I will round up Sam and see if he has anything to report on the mother. " Lovejoy nodded and made his way back to the rooms.

o0o o0o o0o o0o

Jack thought he was finally making some headway. Rose had come to him while he was looking off the front of the ship, and though she didn't apologize, that was the first thing he noticed, she did give the appearance of being repentant and interested in pursuing him. They had then come back to the her state rooms and he drew her. He ad to admit, she had a very pleasing figure. Perfect for drawing. Unfortunately, that was probably her only redeeming feature. With her personality, she wouldn't get far in life unless she married well.

He had now, just come upon her writing a letter, and she handed him a small velvet pouch with what he assumed was the necklace she wore.

"Would you put this in my dressing table please?" she asked him.

"Mmmhmm," he said, taking the pouch. He turned his back, and bounced the pouch in his hand. Way too light for the jewels she had worn for the portrait he drew. Diamonds and emeralds were heavy. Especially the chain she had wore. She must think him a simpleton.

He had found his way to the promenade afterwards, as Rose went to change. He reveled in the crisp cold air out of the window as the ship made it's path to New York. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he went into the inner rooms just as she made her way out.

"It's getting cold," he tells her, rubbing his hands together. Then he takes in her dress. "You look nice," he adds honestly.

There was then a knock at the door. "Miss. Rose?" comes the voice of Mr. Lovejoy. Rose grabs his hand and pulls him to another door that leads into another hall.

"My drawings!" Jack laments.

They continue to make thier way down the hall, but Rose urges him to run when she sees Cal's valet on her heels. They run around a corner, Rose acting as though it were a fun little game, and they crowd into an elevator, and shut the gates on the man. Rose gives him her middle finger and Jack gives him an apologetic look. They make it all the way to E Deck and through the halls to a T junction, where they stop for breath.

"Pretty tough for a valet, this fellow. Seems more like a cop," Jack observes. He had to give the old man props.

"I think he was," Rose said. Well, that explained a lot.

"Oh, shit," Jack says in soft wonder, as he sees Lovejoy through the little round window in the door.

"Go!" Rose urged. They go down the hall, only to find themselves at a dead end. Entering the only unlocked door, Rose is quick to lock it behind them. Only now they were effectively deaf from the noise now coming from the engine room below them.

Turned out thier adventure wasn't over, as Rose saw them chased through the engine rooms as well by the lead stoker and into the cargo area. It was then, Rose spots the Renault that brought her to the dock. They go up to it, and Rose coughs playfully at Jack. He knows her game. She just wants to see him in his 'proper' place. He helps her in and then gets into the driver's seat and honks the horn, as she lowers the dividing window.

"Where to miss?" Jack asks in his best chauffer's voice.

"To the stars," she whispers in his ear. She then takes hold of him and clumsily drags him into the car. It's a bit painful for Jack as his back scrapes the window below him. Rose wraps his arm around her and she starts playing with his hand, before seeming to steel her resolve and kiss his fingertips.

This was it then. It was time to fulfill his end of the contract.


End file.
